


Room Enough for Two

by Severina



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Community: tamingthemuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 10:56:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl stops short, eyes traveling the length of the narrow bunk.  Although there's only one bare foot and a tuft of ink-black hair protruding from the blankets, he ain't exactly gotta be the Amazing Kreskin to figure this one out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room Enough for Two

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's tamingthemuse, for the prompt "mummy"
> 
> * * *

After a long day checking snares and then his late shift on the guard tower, life's pleasures get reduced to a pretty low denominator. Daryl wants only to shuck off his boots and collapse face first on the shitty mattress in his bunk, get a few hours of shut-eye without havin' to look over his shoulder every two minutes, without havin' to scan the darkness lookin' for danger. As he clumps his way up the stairs he's already halfway there in his mind's eye, imaging how good that lumpy mattress is gonna feel, how nice it'll be to just shut his eyes and relax. 

Which explains why he's two steps into his cell before he notices that someone is sleeping in his bed.

Daryl stops short, eyes traveling the length of the narrow bunk. Although there's only one bare foot and a tuft of ink-black hair protruding from the blankets, he ain't exactly gotta be the Amazing Kreskin to figure this one out.

He bites back on a curse. They already decided. He's gonna stay in his own damn bunk every night, here on the second tier. And Glenn's gonna stay in his bunk on the lower level. That's the fuckin' rule.

Yet here's the kid in his bed. Snuggled in his blankets. Wrapped up like a mummy, like somethin' from one of them black and white movies the old man used to watch every Saturday on the tube. Daryl's got it in mind to wake him up, maybe tease him about it, 'cept once dead people started walkin' around none of them old movie monsters seem very funny anymore. What's a mummy, anyway, but another walking dead person? 

He oughta shake the kid awake anyway. Tell him to go sleep in his own damn bunk like they said they was gonna. Hard enough to do this whole thing as it is without rubbin' Maggie's face in it every fuckin' morning. 

Instead, he hangs his crossbow on the post. Kneels by the bunk and quietly, carefully tries to untangle Glenn from the mess of sheets and blankets that he's managed to get wrapped around himself like he's some kind of Korean burrito. 

The kid stirs no matter how slowly he works, poking a disheveled head out from beneath the pillow. Daryl's hand twitches to smooth down the flyaway strands; he rocks back on his heels, still as surprised by the gut-punched feeling he gets just lookin' at the damn kid as he was the first time he realized that he thought of Glenn as something more than a friend. 

Glenn blinks the one eye that Daryl can see, squints in the low light. "My turn for watch?" he mumbles groggily.

"Ain't your turn 'til tomorrow," Daryl says. 

"Oh. Right," Glenn says. He stares blankly for a moment, wiggles enough to reveal his nose, the side of a cheek creased from the blanket. His brows draw down, forehead wrinkling, and Daryl has to clench his fists to stop himself from smoothing those furrows away. "Then why are you waking me up?"

Daryl snorts. "You sleepwalk last night or somethin'?" When Glenn just continues staring at him, he can't help but grin. "You're in my bunk, numbnuts."

He sees comprehension dawn just as the kid squirms the rest of his head out from beneath the covers. Daryl blinks, throat suddenly dry as Glenn tugs an arm free of the blankets, tips his head back and swipes a hand through the mess of his hair. His eyes follow the line of Glenn's neck, dip to the sweep of his clavicle and the long lean line of his torso. His eyes dart to the swell of Glenn's hip, still buried beneath the blankets, and he sees it the way it was the other night. Sees them the way they were the other night, his grip gentle on that pale skin, biting his lip to keep from crying out as he sunk into Glenn's tight heat.

He licks his lips, blinks when he realizes that Glenn is looking at him expectantly. Tells himself that it don't matter if he's blushin' 'cause Glenn can't see shit in the dark anyhow. "What?" he says, more belligerently than he intended. 

"I said I'm sorry, I didn't… I know we're not supposed to. The Maggie Rule, and everything. I'll just—"

When Daryl started unwrapping the kid he fully intended to slap him on the ass and send him on his way, burrow down in blankets warmed from Glenn's body heat and get the sleep he so desperately craved. But as he watches Glenn fight with the sheet tangled around his left leg, he knows that being alone is the last thing he wants. The sheets will feel cold and lifeless; the tiny cot will feel empty without Glenn there beside him. 

He reaches out a hand to snag at Glenn's wrist, stilling the struggle with the sheets. Glenn's pulse, strong and steady beneath the press of his thumb. Glenn's skin, warm and alive next to his. This is what he needs.

"Scoot over," he says.

He sees Glenn's eyes widen just before the kid shuffles to the edge of the cot, slowly lies back down. He makes short work of removing his boots, scuttles in behind Glenn with his back to the wall and his chest pressed up against the heat of Glenn's body. Drapes an arm around the kid's waist, draws him in. Turns out the narrow cot fits the two of them just fine. He feels all the tension of the day drain away. Presses his nose into Glenn's neck and inhales the scent of him, all the sweat and dirt and grime that make up their lives these days, and thinks it's probably the sweetest damn smell in the world. 

"What about Maggie?" Glenn says into the dark.

Daryl presses his lips together, tightens his hold around Glenn's waist. Ain't gonna lie to himself and say that it don't bother him the way the girl sometimes still looks at Glenn, all speculative. He's pretty damn sure Glenn's clueless, but Daryl's got a possessive streak in him a mile wide. He knows that now. Maybe tryin' to spare Maggie's feelings is just makin' the whole thing worse.

"Hidin' and pretendin' ain't doin' no damn good," Daryl says. "Maggie knows what's up. Time she got used to it."

He feels the kid draw in a breath, steels himself to argue the point. But now that he knows what it feels like to wrap himself around Glenn in the long reaches of the night, he ain't never givin' it up. But Glenn lets the breath out, the words unspoken. Twines his fingers around Daryl's instead, his breathing soft and even in the dark.

Daryl lies awake, breathing in the scent of him long after Glenn has drifted back to sleep. He holds on tight.


End file.
